


A Gift Horse (named bumblehooves)

by holographiccatpun



Series: For The Rats [2]
Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Bad Flirting, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Canon-Typical Behavior, Henry Hidgens and the Mental and Emotional Minefield of Social Cues, M/M, Piercings, birfdae boi tedward, charlotte isnt here but she pegs ted, dont be like henry, nick lang confirm that charlotte pegged ted because sam was too afraid to bottom Challenge, phat fucking cocks, that behavior is being a slut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holographiccatpun/pseuds/holographiccatpun
Summary: It's Ted's birthday and Henry is about to make some choices that he may or may not come to regret
Relationships: Henry Hidgens/Ted
Series: For The Rats [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685101
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	A Gift Horse (named bumblehooves)

“So... do you like it?" Henry asks from across the room, two glasses of Ted’s spiked punch in his hands.

Ted wants to respond but what the fuck can he say? He knows how he would respond, but this situation is…. delicate.

“I don’t know yet,” Ted answers shakily. He closed the box after he looked in, desperate to spare himself the embarrassment of getting caught staring at that in front of all his friends. “Do you think you can help me decide?”

Henry’s face turns a shade of pink Ted didn’t know was possible. How can he be shy about this? He bought the damn thing. “I, um, if that’s what you want, I can.”

Ted nods, patting the box as he holds eye contact. He’s bluffing, by god, he’s bluffing, but Henry is a shy twink bitch and he’s definitely not going to call it.

“After the party?” He suggests it mildly, as if proposing they go grab some mcnuggies and a six-pack instead of something so blasphemous even he started to blush. “Folks’re supposed to start clearing out around six.”

The touch of pink that had so elegantly highlighted Henry's sculpted cheekbones is now much darker, coloring the whole of Henry’s face in a deep brick red.

“Sounds great,” he squeaks.

Ted grins and bumps their shoulders together before leaving him behind to mill about the party. Henry and his present are a problem for Future Ted. Right not Ted needs to get tipsy and make some heterosexual mistakes.

__

Ted watches as Emma’s car tumbles down his driveway, waiting until the back of her shitty 2001 Saturn is a dot in the distance to close the door.

“That was some party.” Henry sighs dramatically as he flops against Ted’s couch. “How do you young people do it?”

“You’re not that much older than me, Hendog.” Ted kicks the other man’s calf as he passes, “And the party ain’t over yet, remember?”

The halfhearted groan working its way up from Henry’s chest gets choked off, turning into an uncomfortable rasp as his face returns to the brick color it had been a few hours before. “Wh-What?”

“ _King_ ,” Ted tries not to seem to jittery. He’s not the one who started this. Henry is the one who fucked up here. “You said you’d stick around and, y’know, help me out with the thing you got me?”

“It’s a joke gift.” Henry knows that means absolutely nothing to a man like Ted. He has to. Logic dictates that any human being who has ever met Ted Richards knows he’s a fucking hornball.

Ted hums, reaching into his cabinet to pull the box out. It feels like it’s full of god damn bricks. “Well, joke or not, I figured you’d want to be here for its, uh, ‘maiden voyage’.”

Henry fumbles with his words, sputtering out an explanation of the etymological history of the word maiden that makes Ted’s anxious heartbeat flutter even more. Who let him be this adorable? He knows what’s in this box, but there’s no way this shy little ray of sunshine bought _that_.

Ted offers out a hand in the middle of a description of life as a milkmaid in the ninth century, cutting Henry off mid-word. “C’mon, Professor. This thing’s not gonna test itself.”

Frozen, Henry lets himself get manhandled up off the couch and over to Ted’s bedroom. Both men can feel the tension rising, the flood of awkwardness filling the apartment as Ted’s hand finds the knob of his bedroom door.

They’ve reached a precipice.

There’s no turning back after this. Either they enter Ted’s bedroom and let all of this bottled up feeling unfold, or they step back and laugh it off. Pretend that nothing was almost there or dive in headfirst with no care for what will happen when they reach the bottom. Reckless and wild or cautious and cowardly.

Before Ted can ask, Henry reaches out and opens the door.

—

Ted deposits the box on his bed, gesturing for Henry to settle in the plush armchair in the corner. Thank fuck he put his clothes away for once. He’s a messy bitch, but messy isn’t sexy.

“I, uh, I wanted to ask-“ Ted cuts himself off with a huff, rolling his eyes as he looks over at Henry. The facade can fall now, can’t it? He doesn’t need to be World Renowned Horny Man Ted Richards right now. He can just be a bitch trying to live his life. “How the fuck did you find this?”

“A friend,” Henry says simply.

“Fuckin’,” Ted laughs, running a hand through his artfully gelled hair. “You’ve got this sweet summer child vibe and then you go and do this shit.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Ted.”

His voice sends a shiver down Ted’s spine, dark and dripping with hidden meaning. Ted’s hackles rise as he tries in vain to _not_ get turned on by a single damn sentence.

His fingers find the hem of his shirt, eyes not leaving Henry’s cocky expression as he pulls the soft cotton up over his head and tosses it toward the laundry basket. He misses, but he doesn’t care anymore. These are problems for future Ted.

Just like coming to terms with the fact that Henry “Soft Boy” Hidgens has a friend in the Horny Business. This innocent baby twink knows a horndog Other than him. Maybe that’s the business he talked about in his musical.

Henry’s soft voice pulls him from his internal thoughts. “You have...?”

He looks up to see Henry’s face no longer smug. His pretty lips are parted ever so slightly, the tipity tip of his tongue peeking out from between his teeth.

Ted grins. He’s in his element now. It’s Funky Time.

He trails his fingers across his chest, fingers finding his pierced nipple and pinching lightly. His breath hitches, a soft laugh bubbling up in his chest as he rocks his hips against nothing.

“Is that...?” Henry’s question turns into a rasp as Ted gives a small whine.

“It’s real,” Ted nods. “The other one was being a bitch this morning, but Leftie’s a good boy.”

“You have both?”

“No half measures, my homie.” Ted starts to undo his belt, Henry’s eyes following his hands intently. “I was an emo bitch in high school. Knew this guy learning how to do piercings, let him use me as a pincushion and he’d buy me food.”

In truth, his friendship with Sweaty Dan was more of a brotherhood. The Sweaty Van was practically a second home to Ted from tenth to twelfth grade. They’d park behind an Arby’s and pierce some piece of Ted and then go get four Meat Mountains™.

“What,” Henry swallows, takes a breath, then another. “What else do you have pierced?”

“So much.”

The sound Henry makes is like a mother goose trying to regurgitate a half-eaten corn dog to feed her young.

Dick Richards likes it.

Neither of them are touching below the belt. Ted is touching _just_ his belt. The thought of precipices and turning back glimmers to life in the back of Ted’s mind.

They could stop.

He doesn’t have to continue.

_But he gets to._

Henry didn’t have to get him this gift. Ted didn’t have to invite him into his bedroom. These were conscious decisions. Decisions that Ted is thanking his dear sweet lord Jesus Heronimous Christ for this turn of events.

He dips his fingers into his belt, unfastening it slowly. He saw one clip from Magic Mike XXL and that means he can give a striptease.

Well, that and the fact that he worked his way through college at Big Humphrey’s Anaconda Spectacular.

The leather cracks like a cartoon whip as Ted pulls it out of his belt loops. He drops it on the floor, paying no mind to it or Henry as he unbuttons his jeans. Where he’s going he won’t need pants.

He hops up onto the bed, the springs wheezing under his weight. Henry is still watching him, his expression slightly less slack-jawed than before. Ted decides that’s because he’s getting more comfortable and not because he’s underwhelmed with his mushy tummy. Dad bods are sexy.

Daddy Bod Teddy. Sexy, Sexy Daddy Teddy.

“You ready, King?”

Henry gives a jerky nod, his hands clasped firmly in his lap. He’s more worried than Ted is. Is that comforting or even more unnerving?

Ted’s penis decides it’s sexy.

He drags the box toward him, clicking his nails along the smooth, glossy surface. He’s like one of those asmr bitches.

“Y’know,” Ted drawls, teasing his fingers along the seal of the box, “When I saw you come in with this, I figured it’d be a bottle of wine.”

“Couldn’t decide on a vintage,” Henry squeaks.

Ted rolls his eyes, smiling to himself as he pops the lid and sets it to the side. He’s always been a red man, even though he can only get the box shit around here. “Cristal, obviously.”

Henry nods, body still completely rigid.

Cross-legged on his comforter, Ted Richards pulls out a horse dildo.

**Author's Note:**

> did max send this idea to the rats on February seventh? yes.  
> am I ashamed to have taken this long? yes.  
> will I be doing this again? Most Certainly.


End file.
